


The Way to a Man's Heart (Is Through His Stomach)

by bideanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker Castiel, Chubby Dean, Dean Has a Crush, Fluff, M/M, Police Officer Dean, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 13:26:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5050270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bideanie/pseuds/bideanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's a stereotypical cop who likes donuts a bit too much, and Cas is the baker he visits every day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man's Heart (Is Through His Stomach)

Dean fits the cop stereotype down to a T. Seriously. He could pose for some sort of stock photo, posing with a donut, and everyone would immediately know that he’s a cop. It’s not just the fact that he’s almost in love with donuts (not even just donuts, also muffins, pies, cookies and brownies. Okay, and most other baked goods. Sue him.) that makes him seem like the epitome of a cop, it’s also because he has the whole pot belly thing going on (probably because of the donuts), he always has his stern, get-off-my-lawn look on his face, and he even has those aviator glasses that cops in the movies always wear.

Basically, he’s the walking, talking embodiment of a stock photo police officer.

The fact doesn’t really bother him, until one day, it does.

The day the town bakery shuts down, and Dean spends three pitiful months eating gas-station donuts and watery coffee every morning. He even drives to Kansas City and Lenexa a few times when the hankering for quality baked goods gets too much, and always ends up buying so many donuts and pies that they fill up the backseat of the Impala and he doesn’t have to go to the gas station for at least four days. Sam always gives him a judgmental look when he gets in the car and smells donuts or pie or brownies or whatever Dean had been craving that week, but Dean doesn’t mind. Sam can waste his life away eating spinach and grass while Dean eats stuff that actually tastes nice.

Even though he doesn’t care about Sam’s opinion, he _does_ care about the gas money that it takes to drive to KC twice a week, and so he’s especially, ecstatically happy when a new bakery opens up in Lawrence.

Dean is there three minutes after opening time on the day it opens. He makes Charlie go with him, which is both good and bad as it makes Dean buy less than he wants to from the bakery. Instead of ordering one of everything off the menu, he settles on four donuts: a powdered vanilla one with oreo topping, one with apple pie filling with cinnamon, one triple chocolate and lastly a good ol’ jelly donut.

Dean doesn’t even wait until he’s away from the counter before taking a bite into the apple pie donut, groaning as the warm, gooey center fills his mouth. It’s so much better than any donut he’s had before, and Dean hopes that this is real life and not a dream.

He and Charlie sit down at one of the bright blue tables, and Dean moans and groans his way through the rest of the donut, uncaring of the way Charlie is eyeing him as she eats her blueberry and oat muffin.

“Should I give you some alone time with that donut?” Charlie asks lightheartedly. Dean rolls his eyes as he finishes the donut, immediately reaching for the vanilla one. He tells himself he’s only eating it out of spite, but that’s only the half of it.

He’s in the middle of eating his second donut, reading the menu above the counter to try and decide what he’ll have for lunch, when the door to the kitchen opens. A messy haired man comes out, clad in a bright pink and yellow striped apron that contrasts with his serious expression.

Dean freezes, donut mid-air, gaping at the man. He might be the hottest man that Dean has ever seen _. Hotter than Dr Sexy_.

Okay, Dean thinks, this is definitely a dream.

He stares at the man, who Dean assumes must be the baker seeing as his shirt is covered in flour, as he moves around behind the counter, talking to the cashier.

“Stare, much?” Charlie snorts.

“Shut up,” Dean scoffs, cheeks turning pink. “He’s new to town, and I’m a cop. I was just checking out his character. Keepin’ Lawrence safe is a twenty-four seven job, Charlene.”

“Yeah, and so is your thirstiness for guys.” Charlie counters.

Dean takes another bite of the donut in lieu of a reply, frowning at Charlie as he chews.

“Can I have a bite?” Charlie asks.

“ _No_.” Dean replies quickly. “Get your own.”

Charlie squints at him as though he’d done the most offending thing in the world to her, before making a grab for the third of the vanilla donut that Dean hasn’t eaten yet.  Dean jerks his hand away, but Charlie leans against the table, grabbing his hand and trying to pry the donut from it.

“Just lemme try it, Dean!”

“Get off!” Dean growls back. He pinches Charlie’s wrist, not hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to make her flinch slightly, letting go. Dean quickly stuffs the rest of the donut in his mouth, grinning at Charlie around the powdery mess. “I win.” He says, muffled.

Charlie sits back, crossing her arms. “I hate you, powder-face.”

Dean winks at her.

“It seems as though you are enjoying the donut,” A deep voice suddenly says, and Dean realizes that the hot baker his standing _right there_ , not even a foot away from their table, and Dean still has a mouthful of donut.

Dean flounders. He tries to decide between talking around the donut in his mouth and looking like a pig or waiting until he’s swallowed it and having to endure the awkward silence until then. The baker chuckles, appearing to understand the dilemma, and waits for Dean to finish his mouthful.

“Yeah, man,” Dean says after quickly swallowing the donut. “They’re freakin’ _amazing_.”

“I’m glad.” The man replies with a small smile, his eyes bright. “I wasn’t sure what people would think of them, seeing as the flavors are more outrageous than some.”

“Well, there aren’t any complaints from here, dude. Seriously. Best donuts I ever had.”

Dean waits for the guy to call him out for having multiple donuts for breakfast, that he’s a _police officer_ and he needs to _stay fit_. It never comes, though.

“That’s nice to hear…?” The baker pauses, looking expectantly at Dean.

“Dean.”

“It’s always nice to hear that people like my creations, Dean.” He smiles. “I’m Cas.”

“Cas, man, I am so glad that you decided to open up this bakery.” Dean tells him earnestly.

“So the stereotype is correct, then?”

Dean doesn’t even have to ask him what stereotype he’s talking about. “Yup.” Dean pats his belly, smiling. “Us cops love us some donuts.”

“Just donuts?” Cas asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

“No, we’re partial to pies, too.”

Cas hums. “Well, then, I’m happy to be able to provide the law enforcement of Lawrence with baked goods.” He leans closer, looking conspirational. “And I hope that you come in again sometime soon, Dean.” Cas tells him, offering him another smile before turning around heading back to the kitchen.

“Man, that guy has it bad for you, Dean.” Charlie announces. “Do you think he even noticed I was sitting here?”

“Shut up, Charlene.” Dean shoots back.

Charlie just smirks at him knowingly.

~~

Dean returns to the bakery every day, sometimes even twice a day, and Cas is _always_ there to greet him. It’s as though Cas has some sort of sixth sense, like he knows exactly when Dean walks into the bakery. He always gives Dean a twenty percent discount, too. Dean had assumed it was because of the whole being-a-police-officer thing, but after talking to the other cops at the station, he had quickly realized that he’s the only one getting a discount.

He doesn’t know what to think about that.

Still, Dean goes every day, without fail. Some days he’ll have pie, or donuts or muffins (Dean’s new favorite are bacon flavored muffins), and others he’ll have some sort of sandwich on freshly baked bread. The food there is amazing, but that’s not even the best part. The best part is that every time Dean goes to the bakery alone, Cas always sits down with him to talk while Dean eats.

It’s Dean’s new favorite thing to do at lunch time- he gets to eat the amazing food while he listens to Cas tell him about the bakery, or about his childhood or about his annoying brother that he lives with. In return, around mouthfuls of baked goods, Dean tells Cas about his job, or Sammy or Charlie. They fall into an easy routine, spending every lunchtime together, and Dean has never enjoyed anything more.

It’s not until two months later that things change.

“So,” Charlie says, taking a sip of her drink. “I was thinking we should do movie night tonight.”

Dean pauses mid-chew, half-eaten cookie held in his left hand. “Definitely.” He answers. It’s been too long since he and Charlie had done a movie night, and Dean realizes that it’s exactly what he needs to relax after a long week of fighting crime.

Charlie grins. “Your place, then. We could watch Star Trek.”

Dean ponders for a moment, before shaking his head. “No, Star Wars.”

“No, Star Trek is much better, you _know_ that.” Charlie argues, and Dean rolls his eyes. They’d had this conversation countless times.

Just when Dean is about to answer, Cas is appearing next to them, grinning. “Hello.” He greets, dragging a chair from a nearby table over and sitting down next to Dean.

“Cas, what’s better? Star Wars or Star Trek?” Dean asks.

Cas shrugs. “I can’t say. I’ve seen neither.”

Dean and Charlie exchange wide-eyed looks.

“You’ve never…” Charlie gapes.

“That’s it.” Dean exclaims, slamming his cookie down onto the plate in front of him. “We’re watching Star Wars tonight, and _you,”_ He points atCas. “Are coming. No excuses.”

Cas smiles, eyes warm. “I would love to.”

Dean’s instantly hit with excitement. He and Cas have never hung out outside of the bakery before, and now Cas will be coming to his apartment. Dean panics for a moment. What if Cas won’t like the movie? Or what if Dean’s apartment smells weird? Or, _oh god_ , Cas would see the exercise equipment Dean has in the corner of his apartment and comment about how he’s obviously not using it, or something.

 _No, Cas isn’t like that_ , Dean tells himself sternly.

“Why can’t we watch Star Trek instead?” Charlie groans.

Dean throws a chocolate chip at her. “My place, my choice in movie.”

“Fine,” Charlie sighs, even though Dean knows that Charlie loves Star Wars almost as much as he loves Star Trek.

“What time should we be there?” Cas asks, and as an afterthought: “Do I need to bring anything?”

“Six. You don’t have to bring anything, but I mean, if you want to bring some leftovers from the bakery then I sure won’t stop you.” Dean winks.

“Don’t you ever get sick of my food, Dean?” Cas teases.

“Never.” Dean promises, taking a bite from his cookie to prove it. “When I die, you’ll have to bury me with a bunch of your food so I can carry on eating it in the afterlife.”

Dean tries not to think about the way that he’d just implied that Cas would still be with him when he dies, but by the look in Cas’ eyes, it’s obvious that he caught the mistake.

Not that it had been a mistake, because the truth is, Dean would love it if Cas is with him for that long. As friends, as his personal baker, as more than friends… Whatever makes Cas happy.

 Charlie snorts. “Demanding even in death.”

~~

It’s one minute to six and Dean is sweating his eyeballs out. He’s been running around his apartment all afternoon, trying to make it look presentable, and then he’d spent an hour making snacks for them to eat, followed by a half hour of trying to decide what to wear before finally settling on sweat pants, because if Cas doesn’t like him in sweat pants then he doesn’t _want_ Cas to like him.

He’s glad that Charlie’s joining them, or otherwise he probably would have gone crazy with nervousness.

Dean looks at his living room, wondering if it looks like he’s trying too hard. The coffee table is already set with three open beer bottles, a bowl of popcorn and a bowl of nachos and the couch is in comfort mode; covered with soft blankets and cushions. Shit, Dean realizes, what if the blankets make it look like he’s trying to _seduce_ Cas or-

Before he gets into a full-blown panic, the doorbell rings. Dean’s mouth is dry as he goes to answer the door, wiping his palms on his pants as he goes.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean greets with a grin, pulling Cas into a quick hug, Cas hugging back one handed. He notices that Cas smells really good, and-

Wait.

Dean almost slaps himself. Did he just _hug_ Cas?

“Hello, Dean.” Cas smiles, unaware of the turmoil inside the other man. Dean opens the door wider and gestures for Cas to come in.

He can’t believe he’d just hugged Cas. It had probably been an automatic thing- the only people that come to Dean’s apartment are Sam and Charlie, and he usually hugs them. Dean groans internally. The first time he hugs Cas and it had been a damn mistake.

“I brought pie.” Cas announces, holding up a white box. Dean takes it from him and carries it into the kitchen, gesturing for Cas to follow. “You have a nice apartment.”

“Thanks, Cas.” Dean replies. “Excited to get your education in good movies?”

“I think so.” Cas nods determinedly, a small smile on his face. “Thank you for inviting me over.”

“It’s nothing, man, I actually-” Dean is cut off by Charlie walking through the door, not even bothering to knock first.

“I’m here, bitches!” She announces, marching straight into the living room and flopping down on the couch. She immediately grabs one of the soft blankets and curls against the arm rest. “Hurry!”

Dean rolls his eyes, turning to Cas and waving his hand in Charlie’s direction. “The queen awaits.”

Cas and Dean join Charlie in the living room, Dean sitting in the middle of the couch and Cas to his left. Dean reaches for the remote and presses play.

~~

After that first night, Dean and Cas hang out even more. When Dean isn’t at the bakery or at work, he’ll be at Cas’, eating take-out and bantering with Gabriel, or they’ll be at Dean’s, playing video games or watching movies Cas hasn’t seen.  

It’s amazing and perfect and not enough at the same time. However often they hang out, or however often Dean flirts with Cas, it doesn’t seem to change anything. He loves being best friends with Cas, he really does, but he can’t help but want _more_. He wants to know what it feels like to kiss Cas’ chapped lips, how it feels like to feel Cas’ stubble against his skin.

He wants _Cas_ , in every way possible.

Cas doesn’t seem as though he’s gotten the memo.

Dean knows it’s probably because Cas isn’t attracted to him. What else would it be? Dean knows that Cas is gay, he knows that he’s a romantic and wants a relationship, and he knows that Cas obviously finds his personality appealing enough to hang out with. That means that Cas is probably not attracted to him.

Dean doesn’t blame him. It’s probably because he’s fat. It’s what ruined his last relationship, and it’s probably what’s going to stop him and Cas from ever happening.

Maybe he should lay off the donuts.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas suddenly asks, pulling Dean from his thoughts. They’re in the middle of watching Indiana Jones, buried in blankets on Dean’s couch at one am.

Dean runs a hand down his face, sighing. “Peachy.” He replies, patting Cas’ knee reassuringly. “Just thinkin’ about some stuff.”

Cas’ eyes flicker over Dean’s face, studying him carefully. “What kind of stuff?”

“Nothing.” Dean answers too quickly, and Cas raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Just…” He pauses, trying to figure out what to say. “I dunno... Just frustrated about something, I guess.”

_I have a fucking huge crush on you and you don’t like me back, that’s what._

Dean doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about: the fact that Cas doesn’t like him back, or the fact that Dean is sounding more and more like a whiny pre-teen every day.

Cas hums. “Talking about it might help.”

Dean hesitates. It goes against every fiber of his being, having a _heart to heart_ , but it might actually make him feel better. “I… like someone.”

Cas look at him sharply, eyebrow raised, a weird expression on his face. “Oh?”

Dean nods.

“Then… what is the problem?” Cas continues, sensing that Dean needs a little prompting.

“I don’t think he likes me back.” Dean says, hating how whiny he sounds.

Cas looks incredulous. “You- _you’re_ worried that someone doesn’t have mutual feelings towards you?” Dean nods again, frowning slightly. “Why would they not?” Cas asks, looking as though he doesn’t even understand the concept. “Who is this person?”

“Cas, look- it doesn’t matter, alright?” Dean declares. “If he doesn’t like me then he doesn’t like me.  I don’t really blame him, I mean, who the hell would want _this?_ ” Dean gestures at himself.

Dean is cut off by Cas leaning forward, grabbing Dean’s wrist tightly. “Don’t you dare.” He growls, looking into Dean’s eyes intensely. “If this person doesn’t like you, then that’s their loss. You shouldn’t let that make you feel bad about yourself.”

Dean nods, bewildered.

“Good.” Cas smiles, letting go of Dean and settling back into the couch as though nothing had happened. “If I may ask, what part of yourself are you feeling insecure about yourself?”

Dean blushes, turning his head away. He doesn’t want to bring attention to it.

“ _Dean_ ,” Cas says, sternly, and something about the tone of voice makes Dean want to obey, for some reason. He moves forward once again, leaning into Dean’s personal space.

“I’m just… fat, okay? I’m fat.” Dean mumbles, not looking at Cas. “’s why Aaron left.”

Cas blinks, owlishly, at Dean for a moment, before his expression turned to one of rage. “He _left_ you because of that?”

Dean nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

“Dean, look at me.” Cas orders. Dean is hesitant, so Cas cups his jaw with one hand, tilting Dean’s face so that their eyes meet. “That man was a horrible man for doing that, and you’re much better off without him. It’s his loss, I think.”

“I don’ care about him, Cas.” Dean mumbles.

“You care what the person you like thinks.” Cas surmises, and Dean nods. “Dean, the only thing that matters is what _you_ think. If you’re comfortable with your body, then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Anyone who says otherwise isn’t good enough for you.”

“Okay,” Dean replies, though it comes out more like a whisper. He doesn’t know what to do- half of him wants to burst into tears at how nice Cas is being to him, but the other half wants to run for the hills because of how vulnerable he’s being. “If- if you- if you dated someone with, with-”

“A belly?” Cas prompts.

Dean nods once more. “Would you… be… okay with it?”

 “Of course, Dean.” Cas looks angry. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Sorry.”

“I happen to prefer someone who isn’t… thin.” Cas says, slowly. “And I like giving people food, seeing how happy they become with a good cake or sandwich or pie. Not everyone avoids people who haven’t got six-pack abs.”

“You- really?”

“Yes. Why would I lie?”

“I dunno. It just seems too good to be true,” Dean blurts, not even realizing what he’s saying until the words have come out.

Cas flinches backwards, eyes widening. “Is it- am I…”

Dean groans. _This is it,_ he thinks, _Cas is gonna reject me and I’m gonna be boyfriend-less and bestfriend-less-_

“Oh, Dean,” Cas says, soothingly, having noticed Dean’s reaction. Cas reaches for Dean’s hand, entwining their fingers slowly, giving Dean time to move away if he wants to. “The feelings aren’t unrequited.”

Dean blinks. “You-”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas cuts off. “I do.”

“Thank _god_.” Dean exclaims. “Does this mean I get free donuts?”

Cas rolls his eyes.


End file.
